


Confession

by SteelLily



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 09:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15992183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteelLily/pseuds/SteelLily
Summary: This takes place a few weeks after the events of the season 2 finale. It's really just an excuse to write a bit of fluff with a touch of angst.





	Confession

**Author's Note:**

> I just binged this show in two days and I love these women. This is the first in probably several fics of a couple different ships. I haven't worked out their tones correctly I don't think. This is my first time writing anything Georgian Era so there's bound to be some mistakes here. I apologize for those. It will get better in future. I hope you guys enjoy.

Amelia absently swung the quill in front of her as she debated how best to conclude her thoughts. These last months had been singular in her previously quiet life. She dipped the tip of the feather into the ink and pressed lightly against the page:

_This is the record of the months my mother and I spent with the harlots of SoHo. My reason for committing this to paper is_ , Amelia paused and ran the feather against her lip. The feeling tickled and made her think of the light touch of a hand upon her cheek. Her face flushed hot and she returned to the page, _to tell the truth about these women and some men whom we so eagerly demonize._

“What’re you writing?” Violet asked.

Amelia jolted and nearly dropped the quill. She turned in her seat to look at the woman smiling mischievously down at her from the doorway. It drew a timid grin to her own face as it always did only now she fought less to curb the response. Violet leaned out into the hallway of the Wells house and looked first left then right. When she leaned forward again, her playful grin turned to a more serious one. Amelia knew that look well as muscles low in her belly constricted in response. She wondered if the newness would ever wear and her response to Violet’s glances would diminish. The thoughts were all but erased as her eyes closed when a slightly calloused hand touched her cheek. Violet’s lips pressed softly against Amelia’s neck. Every fiber of her being felt lit on fire.

Violet flopped inelegantly on the bed behind Amelia. Amelia rested her chin against the back of the straight-backed desk chair. She wished, idly, that she had the vocabulary to capture how her heart soared simply to look upon Violet. Violet rolled her eyes and laughed freely, “That’ll wear off, I promise.”

Amelia’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline, “How could you possibly know what I was thinking?”

Violet simply raised an eyebrow in response. Amelia narrowed her eyes at Violet, “Truly, tell me what you believe I am thinking on, Violet.”

Violet sat up and clasped her hands together on her lap, “Well, to start, you were thinking about how my touching you makes you feel things you’ve not felt before. Then, you were thinking, probably, some piss about love.”

Amelia’s hand sprung to her lips to cover the laughter that spilled out. “What?” Violet said and leaned back on her elbows, “I’m not wrong.”

“You are very near the truth though I had not thought to call these feelings love,” Amelia admitted staring a hole into the rug beneath the bed.

Violet nodded, “So what are you writing?”

Violet glanced over her shoulder at the stack of papers behind her. “I am writing to our church,” Amelia straightened the papers and handed the stack to Violet, “Would you like to practice your reading?”

Violet skeptically took the papers. She eyed Amelia’s precise and clean handwriting that could almost be mistaken for the typed script of a book. She chewed her lower lip as her eyes darted over the words. “You’re writing about us?”

Amelia nodded, “I was going to wait until I was finished to show you but since you’ve asked, I suppose there is no harm.”

Violet’s stomach dropped down straight to her toes. She swallowed thickly and returned her eyes to the paper. She had often wondered what a religious woman like Amelia thought of people like her before. She never thought to have the chance to find out and now that she was faced with the prospect, the urge to flee built in her chest like a caged bird beating its wings against the bars. 

The first two pages were a list of the people she had come to know and a brief description. Violet’s eyes skimmed the list until she found her name. She read the words haltingly to herself, _Her eyes are deep and rich as the fresh tilled earth that cradles and nourishes the food which grows there. Her smile, when she chooses to bestow it, can light the darkest of rooms with its brilliance._ Violet looked over the page at Amelia, whose face had taken a bright pink tinge. It made something in her heart clench. _She has a saavy that escapes even the most educated and can only come from scratching a living from the harsh realities of the poor streets of London. Still, despite the hardness one must cultivate to survive in such an environment, her heart is pure in its devotion to her friends and those blessed enough to be counted among her family._

Violet squinted at the words on the paper in her hands. She felt laid bare. It made her skin itch as if fleas had suddenly taken up residence on her person and she felt the need to wash. She quickly moved to the next page which began the story of the Scanwells’ employment by Lydia Quigley. The rest of the letter was a simple retelling of Amelia’s experiences. When Violet came to the last page, she handed the papers to Amelia without looking at the woman. “I am not finished yet. I haven’t quite decided how best to conclude,” Amelia offered the silence between them.

“Whatever you say, I’m sure they will send you reinforcements to condemn the poor whores of London,” Violet retorted amidst the ruffling of her skirts as she stood.

“Violet,” Amelia reached for Violet’s arm.

Violet tugged her arm free and turned her back to Amelia, “I’ve culls waiting.”

Amelia watched Violet retreat from her room. She listened to the sound of her quickly moving steps down the stairs just under the groaning from the other occupied rooms in the house. The door slammed loudly. Amelia held the pages in her hands, she read over her words again wondering how Violet had concluded that she was requesting assistance. She thought she had been very careful with her words and—Amelia put the papers on the desk and rested her head over her folded arms as tears slipped past her closed eyes.

Violet stomped down the streets and alleys back to Nancy’s. She had no culls awaiting her. She simply had to remove herself. She had thought that when Amelia had turned down Justice Hunt’s proposal that they had turned a corner. Amelia may not like that Violet worked as she did but surely, she had thought, that Violet did not still condemn them for their vocation. Even Florence had changed since moving into the Wells house, taking her preaching to Bedlam. Though, Violet half suspected, that was done more out of spite and a desire to preside over Lydia Quigley’s ruin.

Violet stalked her way through the Birch house like a hurricane. All but Nancy herself moved from Violet’s path. When Violet found herself stood in front of Nancy, strong and planted as a tree, she stopped and glared daggers into the floor at the woman’s feet. “What’s your problem, then?” she commanded.

Violet opened and closed her mouth, settling on a growl as a response. Nancy nodded, “Troubles with Amelia.”

Violet’s eyes shot to Nancy’s. She gaped at the woman. Nancy laughed, “You two are about the worst kept secret from Greek Street to the Thames.”

Violet crossed her arms over her chest. “Ease up, you’ll break all your teeth,” Nancy responded.

Nancy took Violet by the arm and led her to the dining table where she directed Violet to sit down and then plopped into a chair across from her and propped her feet up on the table. Violet shook her head, “She’s writing to her church about us, Nance. Everything she and her mother went through. What happened with the Wellses and Quigley. All of it.”

Nancy nodded with a frown. “That troubles you because she used unfavorable language about us?”

“No,” Violet sighed, “She didn’t. She was quite complementary. Perhaps too complementary. At worst they’ll send someone for the Scanwells and at best, they’ll send the rest of the congregation to shout at us from morning til night. We’ll starve.”

Nancy picked at the strings around the bundle of birch branches in her hand. “You worry they’ll take her from you. Are you in love with her?”

There was no condemnation or disappointment that Violet could find in Nancy’s tone. It caused something in her throat to constrict. When Violet opened her mouth to reply nothing came out. Violet watched as Nancy leaned her branches against the table and reached across to hold onto Violet’s hands which she had in a strangle hold. “There isn’t a danger in falling in love. The danger is in falling in love with someone who cannot possibly accept us as we are. Does she expect you to change for her and become like she is?”

Violet shrugged. “I don’t know, Nance. I’ve tried convincing myself that this is just a dalliance. That she will tire soon enough and find herself a respectable husband having sated the taste for a woman. When she accepted Hunt’s proposal it felt like she reached in my chest and pulled out my still beating heart. Then when she was stabbed, I—,” Violet shuddered.

Nancy squeezed Violet’s hands and tilted her head down to force the younger woman to look up at her. When she had Violet’s gaze fixed, she replied, “She cannot know you are an option to choose if you do not tell her and you cannot let her go if you do not know whether she will leave.”

Violet rolled her eyes as she pulled a hand away to wipe the hot tear that slipped down her cheek. “Best watch yourself, Nance, anymore talks like this one and people might mistake you for having a heart.”

“We cannot have that,” Nancy winked and released Violet’s hands, “Talk to the girl.”

Violet sighed but nodded. She pushed herself away from the table and Nancy’s all too knowing blue eyes. The walk back to Greek Street took the longest it had ever taken Violet. She nearly turned back twice before berating herself and her cowardice. Her hand hovered over the door of the Wells house. The door opened suddenly, revealing Fanny and a cull. Violet stepped to the side as the man straightened himself and tipped his hat to her. She nodded. “Hullo, Violet,” Fanny grinned.

“Hey, Fan. Is Amelia here?” Violet asked as nonchalantly as possible.

Fanny nodded, “I think so. Hasn’t come out of her room all afternoon ‘s far as I can tell.”

“Thanks, Fan,” Violet replied and closed the door behind her.

The stairs creaked and groaned with every step Violet took. She swore they had not been so when she was there hours before. Her feet took her to the Scanwells’ door while her mind tumbled from one thought to the next. She raised her hand and set it against the wood once. Her teeth gritted and she knocked with more vigor. There was a shuffling behind the door before it was opened. Violet took in the sight of a bleary eyed Amelia, “Can I come in?”

Amelia nodded and shut the door behind them. She leaned against it and stared at her hands, resting lightly on the white apron front of her dress. “Why did you go?” her voice was so quiet, Violet almost missed the question entirely.

Violet sighed loudly and turned around the chair in front of Amelia’s desk. She motioned for Amelia to sit on the bed across from her. Amelia pushed away from the door and sat very carefully on the bed, her hands still clasped lightly on her lap. Violet picked at her cuticles as the silence wrapped around them. When she looked up, Amelia was watching her in a way that made her throat constrict. She quickly bowed her head again. “I am sorry I left so abruptly,” Violet started.

She watched Amelia wipe at her eyes from her periphery. “Your letter made me feel—,” Violet motioned idly, searching for words.

“Judged?” Amelia offered, “I meant no such thing. I thought I was so careful. I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Violet quickly shook her head, “Stop talking. That’s not it.”

Amelia nodded and returned her eyes to her hands. Violet gritted her teeth, “I felt scared.”

Amelia’s eyebrows knitted together. Violet held up her hand, “Let me finish this or I’ll lose my nerve. I don’t want you to leave. I—,” she took a steadying breath, “I want you.”

“I know, Violet. I—,” Amelia started.

“No, Amelia, I mean I want you here with me not in secret,” Violet cringed and added, “Not that it’s apparently any kind of secret. I can’t give you a life like someone like the justice could’ve. I won’t give up whoring. I’m not changing who I am, but I want you in this life with me. I’m not asking you to be a harlot,” she quickly amended, her confidence quickly draining to rambling.

Violet did not notice when Amelia rose from the bed amidst her tumbling thoughts. A gentle finger against her lips stilled them and she looked up at Amelia Scanwell, standing in front of her, looking for the world like an angel. Her fingertips pressed against Violet’s arms, carefully encouraging Violet to her feet. Violet reveled in the feeling of Amelia’s hands moving up her arms to cup her cheeks. Violet felt Amelia move closer. Amelia’s lips tasted of salt from the tears she had caused. It was a brief and gentle pressing of lips to her own. Amelia put her hand on the center of Violet’s chest. “I did not know love was the word I was missing, Miss Violet Cross,” Amelia started, “But I believe it is the right one. I cannot imagine being separated from you.”

Violet took Amelia’s hand and pressed her lips against her palm. Violet’s eyes lit up with a joy she had not expected. Violet wrapped Amelia’s arm around her waist and kissed Amelia as she pulled their bodies flush.


End file.
